WidowsWalk (2 page)

Morning brought sunshine and that always improved Lindy’s
mood. She flung the cover back with a renewed sense of determination, anxious
to begin her day. Finding an old galvanized bucket, she set it in the deep
square porcelain sink.

The cog-shaped brass handle squealed in protest as she
turned it, the air belching in the pipes. The thick rust-colored sludge plopped
into the bucket with little enthusiasm. Lindy opened the cupboard beneath the
sink and futilely banged on the pipes with a butter knife. What she thought
that might accomplish she didn’t know. She turned the other handle. The spigot
coughed, sneezed and then let go—covering her face and neck with a brick-colored
mess just as the lights came on.

Lindy might have cried if she could. But instead she sat on
the floor and laughed hysterically. Tears were something she could not seem to
manage anymore. When Stephen had deceived her and she’d walked away from their
relationship she had cried for days. Not because he was gone but because she
had let herself be fooled into thinking he loved her.

They had lived together for over a year and she was sure he
was going to propose marriage on that weekend trip they’d taken to see his
parents. She had found the ring, after all. She had invested so much in him,
planned a future, given herself unreservedly to him but he had casually
dismissed all of that.

Perhaps she had cried herself dry? When her mother had
passed there had been again nothing—dry as a desert. She tried to cry, really
she did, but…

A rapping sound and the creaking of the screen door shook
her from her budding hysteria.

“Everything okay in here?” Tom stepped cautiously into the
kitchen, peering around the open door. Lindy looked up and saw in his
expression that he wanted to laugh but was much too polite to do so.

“Good morning, Captain,” Lindy said as seriously as she
could muster.

“Uh—good morning. I was running on the beach and thought I
heard you screaming. Sorry to barge in.” Tom walked slowly toward her as though
she were a scared rabbit poised to flee.

His tight shorts were molding to his form, exposing more
than they concealed. A thrill began deep down between her thighs as his bulging
crotch filled her field of view. Her fingers curled involuntarily as she
wondered what it would feel like to stroke him there. Reaching over her head,
he turned the water off.

Tom lifted his t-shirt over his head. Lindy couldn’t tear
her eyes from his tightly muscled torso, dusted with golden hair. His chest was
broad and his tiny nipples peeked out from their well-defined home. He sat on
the floor in front of Lindy and began to wipe the dirty water from her face
with his shirt.

She wanted to feel awkward about this stranger’s kind
gesture but for some reason she didn’t. The well-worn cotton was soft as he
smoothed the makeshift towel against her cheek.

Lindy knew she was staring at him, but she couldn’t help it.
Who the hell is this guy? Gosh, they sure know how to grow ‘em over here!

“Lindy, close your mouth.” Tom smiled warmly and wiped
casually in the rounded scoop of her neckline. Her nipples were starting to
pucker from his touch.

Lindy hadn’t realized that her mouth had been gaping.
Embarrassed, she grabbed the shirt from his hand and reaching for the edge of
the sink, she hoisted herself to her feet.

“Well Captain, you certainly have a way of saving the damsel
in distress.”

Tom stood, keeping his body close to Lindy’s. She could feel
his warm breath on her face and still-damp neck. She was annoyed with herself a
she shivered at the caress.

“Lindy, a capable gal like you certainly doesn’t need
saving, does she?”

Lindy backed up a step, wanting to take back her personal
space but found the hard edge of the sink digging into her bottom, making her
lean back, her hips pushed forward. It made her feel vulnerable, open.

“Certainly not but I appreciate the offer.”

Tom countered with a half of a step forward, invading her
space again. Lindy was very conscious of the heat of his naked torso so close
to hers. “I wasn’t offering, merely stating the obvious,” he said as his head
moved closer.

Lindy arched her back slightly to pull away but realized too
late that all she had accomplished was to pushing her braless breasts
practically into his face. He might be a gentleman but he was a man.

Lindy watched his gaze drop and linger as her nipples
hardened, poking through the wet cotton of her top. Tom’s hand was on her hip,
fingers curling around her waist and moving slowly upward. As his fingertips
reached the underside of her breast, Lindy panicked and stood up straight.

“I wasn’t offering either, Tom,” she said resolutely.

“Could have fooled me, Lindy.” Tom’s gaze never left hers.

“Thanks again but I really have a lot to do around here.”
Her words tumbled out quickly in an effort to hide her embarrassment.

Lindy tried to step aside but Tom draped his arm on the
other side of her, placing his hands on the edge of the sink. Lindy knew she
could break free but she didn’t want to. What she wanted was for him to kiss
her. The heat was rising from her core to her neck and she could feel the
dampness at the apex of her thighs, clinging to her panties and her soft, moist
folds.

Tom smiled as though he knew her secret. Closing his eyes,
he took a deep breath. Lindy wondered if he could smell her desire for him.

“If you are sure there is nothing I can do for you, then?”

Lindy hesitated. She didn’t know why she so desperately
wanted this stranger to throw her down on the floor and take her like a rutting
animal but she did. Her vivid imagination was running amok again. The images of
entwined limbs, thrusting hips and hungry mouths filled her mind.

“Lindy?”

“What?” she answered hotly. “Yes, oh sorry, Tom, I was
thinking…”

Tom moved his head closer still. “What were you thinking?”
His voice was soft, his lips almost brushing her cheek.

His erection pressing into her thigh, and the warmth of his
breath on her ear caused her to shiver. She pressed her breasts against him and
the sensation of his hard chest meeting her tight nipples caused her to
whimper.

“I was thinking—oh,” she said as his tongue barely traced
the outline of her ear.

“Perhaps you were thinking that you would like me to kiss
you.” His lips found her cheek.

“Truth be told, I was thinking that—” Lindy paused, her
brain churning with mixed emotions. “We are strangers and this cannot lead to
anything good.”

“Why does it have to lead to anything?” His lips were at the
corner of hers. “Why can’t we just kiss?”

Lindy tried to weigh her options but Tom captured her pursed
lips and kissed her tenderly. He increased the pressure.
I am actually
feeling weak in the knees.
She sagged against him, moaning softly. As his
tongue pushed at the seam of her lips she pulled away abruptly. She knew once
she let him in there was no turning back.

“Tom, thanks. I am fine here. I don’t need anything else. I
mean—right now.”

“Okay, Lindy. If you change your mind you know how to find
me.”

Tom’s smile reminded Lindy of a Cheshire cat and she
wondered why he had to be so full of himself. This was exactly why she did not
need any help from a man—especially an arrogant, pompous ass like Tom. Lindy
threw herself into the task at hand. If she wanted to enjoy her vacation by the
sea, she needed to make the place livable.

* * * * *

After a couple of days she was at least able to bathe and
sleep in a clean bed. She hadn’t been sleeping or eating well and it was taking
its toll. “What is wrong with me?” she asked her pseudo-serious reflection in
the hall mirror. She didn’t know why she expected a different response.
A
girl can hope, can’t she?

She slid her finger across her lower lip and smiled. She
couldn’t seem to get Tom’s kiss off her mind. It had only been a few days but
he had not been around since. Why was she even allowing thoughts of him to disturb
her peace? Why?

Because it made her feel things she thought had long since
died. Because this stranger seemed to crawl right under her skin and leave her
feeling empty inside at the same time. She knew it was ridiculous but all she
wanted was for him to kiss her again.

Okay, coming to the romantic Cornwall of her dreams was
clouding her judgment. This was not a Gothic romance novel. It was her life.

Let’s look at this objectively. Twenty-six years old, no
family, single—with no interest in the roller coaster of emotions that love
seems to bring—and I’m a romance writer living in a craggy house by the sea.

Lindy shook her head. She couldn’t believe the cliché her
life had become.

So now the alpha hero drops in and wants to have
passionate sex with me. What would my heroine do? Sure there’s plenty of
conflict, she’d love to hate his smug, pompous nature but is that enough? So
what? He is hot and a little sex never hurt anyone. Besides, he must be gone to
sea for weeks at a time and by the time he returns you might be back at home
already. Home?

Lindy was beginning to wonder what that word meant. She had
sold her condo and put her belongings in storage before she left. She had her
friends but no family to consider. This old place wasn’t so bad. Maybe she
could stay for a while. It might be a good muse, if nothing else.

“Lindy! Hello, anyone home in there?” Tom called as he
opened the screen door.

Startled from her self-talk, she smoothed her hair into the
sloppy ponytail at her neck and tugged her shirt down, hoping it would make her
look a bit less slovenly.
Well I sure have made a good impression so far!

“Sorry Tom, a bit distracted I guess.” Lindy tried to
recover and mask her emotions.

“I knocked a couple of times, just wanted to make sure you
were okay,” he said as he stepped into the disaster of the kitchen.
If the front
of the house faces the sea, why does everyone have to walk into the kitchen?
Lindy
wondered fleetingly.

Tom looked at her keenly, trying to guess what had been
distracting her. He was beginning to wonder just what made this gal tick. She
was fiercely independent, a little too much so for his taste. She seemed wound
tighter than a traveling alarm clock.
Better to not get involved. I don’t
need any more complicated women—especially one that lives so close. Soon I’ll
be back out to sea—alone and free.

“Lindy, I just stopped by to let you know I’ll be taking a
charter group out tomorrow. Sailing around to Mallorca and then Barcelona. I
will be gone a little over a month.”

“Oh, sounds lovely.” Tom thought Lindy looked a little
wistful as she gazed out the window at the sparkling sea. “Thanks but I hardly
need your itinerary.”

“Yes, right. But since you’re new in town and don’t know
anyone…” He paused. “Well just in case you need anything, here is my card,” he stammered,
pressing it into her palm.

Tom hadn’t experienced much rejection from women in the past
and Lindy’s casual slam had taken him off his game.
Just thought I would lay
a little groundwork for my return but his one might not be as easy as the
others.
“Sometimes the cell works near land but I can usually pick up
messages in port. Email is always good.” He added a quick wink and Lindy
smiled. Tom watched as that smile went from puzzled to embarrassed in a few
seconds.

“Whatever will I do without you?” she said, falling into a
fake swoon against the railing.

Tom watched her back arch and her breasts rise toward the
sky. Her chest was heaving and her legs parted slightly to hold her balance.
Tom could feel his cock stirring and reached a hand beneath her back. Lifting
her into his arms, he heard a small whimper as their bodies connected.

Her lips parted, pushing out shallow puffs of air and Tom
took it as an invitation, capturing them between his own. He kissed her softly
at first, waiting for her surrender. When her arms encircled his neck, he
slipped his tongue inside her mouth. Kissing her deeply, he drew the breath
from her lungs until she broke away, gasping for air.

“See you, Miss Belinda Ann Reddington of America.”

“See you, Captain.” And with that, he was gone again.

Lindy sat in an old wicker rocker for some time after Tom
left. The sound of laughter floated from the beach and she closed her eyes,
feeling the warmth of the sun on her face. People on the beach were enjoying
the warmth of the sunny day. The gulls swooped and dove, trying to share the
sunbathers’ picnic lunches, and the maritime smell of fish and seawater clung
to the onshore breeze and everything in its path.

Lindy giggled like a child then shook her head. She was
ridiculously happy and that worried her. She had just managed to rein in her
emotions from their last encounter. It was just a kiss, she thought as she
sipped her iced tea. Daydreaming was not going to help her meet her deadline or
get this house in order. Shaking off her lethargy, she headed in and grabbed
her laptop. She had a book due in less than a month and was only halfway done.
Her editor was patient but Lindy liked to be on time. Taking it onto the porch had
seemed like a good idea but the sparkling crystal-like drops of water glinting
off the sea were distracting her, so she snapped the lid shut on her laptop and
went inside to make supper.

* * * * *

The day hung wearily on Lindy’s shoulders and as she soaked
in a hot bath later that night she let the heat and her weariness carry her to
a peaceful place. She wondered if Tom had left yet, if there might still be a
chance he would stop by and wrap his arms around her. She floated on the
daydream until she worried she would drift off then hoisted her relaxed body
from the tub and toweled off.

Heading to her bedroom for her robe, she saw Tom’s shirt
hanging over a chair. She gathered the soft cotton in her hands. She couldn’t
resist burying her nose in the worn fabric. It smelled of the sea and of a man
and something else Lindy couldn’t quite put her finger on. It smelled like Tom.

Remembering his kiss, Lindy shuddered and a tingle rose from
somewhere deep inside. She stroked her hands over the t-shirt, feeling her nipples
harden against the cotton.

The shirt came to her knees and she gathered it together and
pressed it against her tender sex, hoping to stop the ache and to mop up the
trickle of moisture. All she wanted was for him to kiss her again. She stared
out the window into the early darkness hoping—wishing—to see him walking up the
beach.

Lindy closed her eyes and imagined Tom’s face. She could
smell him all around her. Feel the heat of his skin pressed close to hers, his
arms around her waist. She let the fantasy take her and she leaned into the
protection of his embrace.

Her nipples were hard, the soft cotton pulled tightly
against them, rubbing until they ached with urgent need. In her imagination she
could feel his hands sliding up— cupping her breasts, squeezing, his palms warm
against the peaking nubs. She groaned and moved her hips, searching for the imaginary
hardness of his erection. She needed to feel his desire for her, needed to feel
like a woman, needed release.

Lindy stretched out on the bed, the mattress enveloping her
in a soft cloud of comfort. Her hands became his hands and were roaming over
her body. Caressing, exploring, arousing her until her nerve endings were
burning with the intensity of sensation. Fingers on her clit circling slowly at
first, teasing until the pain was too much to bear and the pressure increased
inside her. Pushing harder, moving faster and then his fingers were inside her.
Thrusting in and out, pushing up against her G-spot as the tension built.

She was ready but tried to hold it back. She wanted more,
wanted it to be explosive. In her fantasy his palm pressed into her clit,
moving against her each time his fingers thrust into her. Lindy groaned, her
breath coming in rapid pants now and she undulated her hips, pushing up into
the powerful grip he had on her sex.

His other hand squeezing her breast, he pinched her nipple
between his thumb and finger and she cried out, “Oh Tom, please!” Faster he
pumped inside her, the hard heel of his hand rough as it slid over the curly
hairs on her mound before dragging against her sensitive clit. She was so
close, the need inside pushing for release.

The muscles in her abdomen clamped down tightly and released.
She pushed hard and bore down as the warm, wet release coated her thighs.
Sighing, she snuggled closer, pulling the light quilt over her shoulders and
drifting off to sleep.

* * * * *

The early-morning sun shone brightly and Lindy woke with a smile
already curving her lips. Still half-asleep she reached for Tom, her hand
falling into the empty spot next to her. She hesitantly opened her eyes,
dreading the truth she already knew—he hadn’t really been there. Her fantasy
had been so vivid. She’d felt and smelled and tasted each sensation. Maybe her great-aunt’s
note was truer then she thought—there was magic in this house. It was either
that or Lindy had suddenly turned into a sex-starved woman.

* * * * *

A few days of heavy cleaning and Lindy felt a bit more
settled. The house was beginning to shape up and it gave her a sense of
accomplishment. She had gone into town for some groceries and gotten the name
of some contractors at the market while she was there. They would be coming out
to meet with her in a few days and Lindy was excited to be making progress. One
room at a time, she worked steadily to make the place livable.

Her afternoons were spent writing on the broad clapboard
porch while the ocean breeze blew, cooling her tortured soul. She would finish
this damn book about her breakup with Stephen and then she could move on. Of
course it was a romance so she had to find the happily-ever-after in there
somewhere. Lindy tried not to write real life but it was impossible to keep her
emotions from flowing onto the page.

Exhausted and emotionally drained, she typed her two
favorite words—the end. Rubbing her hand over her face, she felt the tears
pushing at her but they still would not come.

The late-afternoon sun was orange in the sky, falling slowly
toward the leaden sea. Lindy grabbed a sweater and headed down the beach. She
walked and walked and walked, oblivious to the world around her. It was time to
let it go.

So life didn’t always turn out as planned. She was young and
had plenty of time. Better she had found out before they had married—if they
were ever really going to be married at all. Lindy never even got to try that
ring on. When she had run into him and Rachel at the museum, she noticed Rachel
was wearing it on her left hand.

Heading back home, Lindy’s thoughts turned to Tom. Maybe a
summer romance was just what she needed. And since he left for weeks at a time
it would be perfect—a little fun and then goodbye.

A flash of bright blue caught her eye and Lindy turned to
see a gorgeous siren masthead. Tom’s house, she thought. Long golden hair was
carved in waves covering the figure’s back, and the white skin of her hips peeked
through just above the blue drape of wooden fabric covering most of her bottom.
Her naked breasts were full and round with the palest of pink nipples. They
were small and delicate like little pearls. Lindy could feel her own nipples
tighten as she looked at them. The masthead was magnificent and Tom’s place
looked cozy and inviting.

Lindy felt the warmth between her legs and wondered why she
had been thinking about sex so much lately. Now all she could think of was
seducing Tom when he returned.

“She’s really something isn’t she?”

Lindy pulled herself from the fantasy of tangled sheets and
suntanned limbs to see a beautiful blonde woman coming round the side of Tom’s
house with a watering can.
Damn, it figures
, Lindy thought, irritated.

“Yes, she’s quite lovely. Looks remarkably like you,
actually.”

“That’s very kind of you—but no, it is an antique. Something
of a local legend really. A sea captain’s unrequited love.”

“Sounds very romantic,” Lindy said.

“I told Tom it’s too valuable to leave it outside but he
doesn’t like to hide things of beauty.”

Oh no, except girlfriends. I wonder how she’d feel about
him kissing strange American women.

“I suppose it attracts a lot of attention.” Lindy tried to
soften her clipped tone.

“My name is Sarah, by the way.”

“Belinda—Lindy. Nice to meet you. A lovely place you have.”
Lindy hoped it didn’t sound as though she was fishing.

“Well, thanks. It’s not mine, just watering Tom’s plants.
Are you the American fixing up the old Ballard place, then?”

“That would be me. Did Tom mention what a mess I’m in?”

“Tom? No, I was down at the post office the other day and
someone mentioned it.”

“Oh yes, small town, news travels fast.” Lindy kicked at the
sand with her toe, trying to hide her disappointment. “I should be headed back.”

“Well it was nice to meet you, Lindy.”

“You too,” Lindy managed with as much kindness as she could.
Waving, she headed back down the beach. So what did she expect? A good-looking
guy like Tom probably had plenty of women.
Enough!
She wasn’t going to
even think about it anymore.

* * * * *

Lindy had been saving the attic for last. She hadn’t wanted
to go up there by herself but since she was alone she would have to. The dust
was settling through the cracks in the floorboards, raining down on the cleaning
she had managed in the bedrooms.

Dragging a mop and bucket along, she headed upstairs.
Reaching the door to the attic, she tugged on the knob to no avail. The
humidity must have been making it stick. Pushing her hip soundly against it to
loosen it, she pushed hard. A key fell from the ledge above the door, clanking
on the floor at her feet.

Duh, Lindy. A key would help.
She unlocked the door
and stood on her tiptoes to place the key back on the ledge.

A couple of yanks and the dampness released its grip and the
door opened. The smell of years of neglect hit Lindy head-on. She wondered how
long the room had been sealed up and what she might find.

Always curious, she tried to shake off her fears and look on
it as an adventure.
I mean really, what do you think is up here?
As she
trudged up the creaking wooden stairs, suddenly she wished she hadn’t read so
many ghost stories in her youth.

The blast of hot air hit her head-on at the top of the
stairs and she recoiled. Setting down her cleaning supplies, she wove her way
through the piles of forgotten treasures to open a window at either end of the
long room.

The ocean breeze had its work cut out for itself in this
oppressive place. The attic was magnificent, just as she would have written it
in a story. Boxes and boxes of books and magazines, a dress form covered in a
fur coat with the fox heads still attached to the collar. Bits and pieces of
furniture and other assorted oddities that Lindy hadn’t quite identified yet.
And there was of course the obligatory steamer trunk. Lindy knew she should wait
for another day to open it but she was too much of a romantic to wait.

The latch was smooth and worn against her fingers as though
it had been opened and closed many times. As she pushed open the humped lid,
the smell of memories filled Lindy’s nose—paper and, ink, mothballs and mildew.
The soft smell of dried leaves and old-lady perfume.

Lindy breathed deeply and closed her eyes. She knew Emmaline
was gone but she still felt as though she was invading her privacy. Silently
she lifted a “sorry” to the rafters before removing the tray from the top.

The letters were stacked in neat rows. Each tidy bundle tied
with a different-colored ribbon. The spidery script was fading on the yellowed
envelopes and Lindy hoped the letters were easier to read. Smiling, she knew
her writer’s block had just ended.

Just one. Then I will clean.
She was lying to
herself. Carefully untying the pale-lavender ribbon, she slid the top letter
from the pile.

My Dearest Emmaline,

I received your last note. It grieves me that you are so
sad. I hate that I cause you pain.

Lindy held the letter to her chest as her heart fluttered.
She didn’t want to start in the middle. She wanted the slow build. She would
need to find the beginning. Hurriedly dumping some magazines from a nearby box,
she carefully lifted the letters from the chest as if they were delicate crystal
and placed them inside.

Being a practical woman, Lindy assumed the colors of the ribbon
meant something and stacked them in layers of matching ribbons. There must have
been hundreds of letters and Lindy could feel the excitement welling up from
deep within. She hoped they were all love letters—why else would someone keep
them?

As she lifted the last layer from the trunk, yellowed tissue
paper crinkled against the pad of her fingers. Trying not to panic, she
carefully laid the last letters in the box and wiped her dusty hands on her
jeans. Like handling a newborn, Lindy delicately slid her hands under the soft
lump and lifted the nested package.

Setting it on the floor beside her, she unfolded the brittle
paper and exposed the contents within. The wedding dress was magnificent.
Elegant. A simple silhouette and the silk was covered in delicate lace that
seemed to be remarkably still intact. It looked as though it had never been
worn and Lindy sighed. Holding the dress close to her face, she breathed in. The
faint memory of lavender and tears filled her nose—the same scent from the
letters.

Lindy was afraid to compromise the garment so she carefully
rewrapped it and set it atop the letters in the box. Handling the package like
precious cargo, she bypassed her mop and bucket and headed downstairs.

Setting the box on the vanity bench in her bedroom, Lindy
sat heavily on the bed. Her heart was beating fast as she warred with herself.
Why
fight it?
It’s not like I’m on a schedule.
Lindy could be a bit
obsessive at times and she loved to battle with herself.